


Don't think, feel!

by shikamika



Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-01 17:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8632456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shikamika/pseuds/shikamika
Summary: “Don’t you wanna practice too?”“What?”“Kissing.”





	1. "I can hear you...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing something again that I shouldn't. I told myself not to get into another multi chapter fic, but here it is. I just love them a lot at the moment, so I was unable to help the feels.
> 
> I hope they are not too ooc, still trying to grasp their characters and figure out how to get into their heads ;;; 
> 
> The title is Ooshiba's character song, it seriously sounds like a title of a fan fiction so I was unoriginal enough to use it ///;;;  
> For chapter titles, I'm going to use the lyrics (in non-order way) of Christina Perri: Distance.
> 
> Might contain a bit of manga spoiler, but nothing major.

...dreaming."

 

 

 

The sky has begun to wear its orange dress when Kimishita left the clubroom. To his own defence, the midfielder wasn’t the only one left. Mizuki and Tsukamoto were still hanging around and by the time he reached the school gate he noticed Kazama and the first year trio prop the wall.

 _So annoying, just go home already_ , he thought, but spared the younger members from a lecture. Instead, he just nodded back at their greeting. Kurusu seemed frightened. Good.

Kimishita really didn’t fancy how quickly it became so dark in this season, he always preferred going home while the Sun was still lingering around. Plus, he needed to stop by a convenience store on his way as well. His old man texted him to do a light grocery shopping for tomorrow, and possibly even for tonight. Since it wasn’t his turn to cook dinner, he couldn’t figure out what the meal is going to be. With a heavy sigh – and responsibility filled mind – Kimishita finished the shopping quickly, he knew his way around the shelves and thank-fucking-fully the crowd either already left, or not yet appeared. Point is, there was no line and that alone pleased him. Not so did the clumsy part-timer on the other side of the counter, as she seemed to commit childish mistakes all over.  
  
_A complete beginner. Must be the first day, huh…._

Kimishita thought, fingertips already drumming as his patience ran thin. He closed his eyelashes to relax his pupils. Would have been smarter to get the contact lenses out right after practice, damn. The girl said the products name out loud as she calculated, Kimishita already knew the amount he is going to pay. He did the counting while dropping the goods into the basket.

“…five hundred grams of onion, a pack of beef, a bag of apples…” Yes, yes, that’s right, just wrap the fuck it up already. “A bottle of milk, a bag of chips…” _Wait, what?_ Kimishita didn’t need chips. “A bottle of Pocari, one box of pocky…” Wait, wait, wait! What the hell was going on? Kimishita finally cracked his eyes open when the amount rang in his ears. “Four thousand thirty five yen please.”

No. That was _wrong_.

As Kimishita was just about to protest, a huge palm covered his sight, grabbing the snacks and the sport drink. The midfielder’s gaze followed the extra limb in the picture and once realization sunk in, it was hard to tell what annoyed Number Ten more: the owner of that unnecessary arm or the high and mighty smirk that sat on that shit eating mouth.

“ _Kiichi_ ,” it came as a whisper, barely audible due to the dumbstuckness of this ridiculous situation. Needless to say, frustration won over in an instant and any meek gesture that might have been painted on Kimishita’s confused features have been washed off by the popping nerves all over his forehead. “What the hell are you doing, idiot?!” He hissed, venom planted. Question aside, their fingers were mutually curled in each other’s collar. Ready to bite not just bark. The girl behind the counter screamed in shock.

Tch, Kimishita completely forgot about her.

“Can’t you tell, bastard? Are _you_ that stupid? Buying snacks.” Ooshiba answered back, his voice loud enough to attract unnecessary attention.

“On _my_ money? I’m the one paying here, dumbass!” Kimishita narrowed his gaze as Number Eleven’s big fingers gripped the fabric of his coat, obviously frustrated. What the hell was he so frustrated with anyway? It was Kimishita who should be annoyed, not that empty headed big oaf!

Oh, Ooshiba seemed to hesitate. Confused maybe? “Your fault you are spending it on me, bastard!” The taller teen yelled back, his words almost making Kimishita literally facepalm.

Why was he dealing with this? Why was he dealing with _this_?

“You make no sense, moron! And your vocabulary sucks! Get out of my sight!” Figuring this conversation is never-ending, and neither the place nor the time is acceptable to fabricate a proper man out of this garbage, Kimishita decides to be the first to remove his hold. The gesture seemingly stunned Ooshiba. This time, his confusion was obviously written all over that dumb face of his.

On another serious note: Kimishita had no idea how he was able to hold the drink, the chips and even the pocky in one fucking palm. Ooshiba was tall– _big_ , alright. But to have such enormous, monster-alike hands was seriously alarming.

“Hhhn,” Kimishita’s train of thoughts were disturbed with a huffing sound that he knew oh so well. Just a look at the giant was enough to verify the ultimate sulk. What a piece of shit.

As Ooshiba didn’t seem to add anything else to the topic, and finally retreated his pawn as well, Kimishita grabbed the bag from the counter, paid with his IC card and fumed out of the store.

Mannerism to be damned, he did not care anymore. He was tired, hungry, he had his homework to do, mind the store and study for tomorrow’s English test.

On his way along the well-lit street, he heard a “Hey,” from afar. Somewhere behind him. But Kimishita didn’t stop, not even turned around. He wasted enough time and no, he didn’t feel up for another pointless quarrel with that idiot. Luckily, Ooshiba didn’t follow him, so after turning two left corners he was finally able to slow down his pace. Must be convenient to be blind toward responsibilities. That fucking asshole.

 

-

 

The next day passed as usual, morning practice always came too early, having him and the rest of the team semi-asleep. Unless you were Mizuki. Their captain dangerously mimicked an overworking Duracell rabbit, as if he was a kind of zombie and ate morning practice as his breakfast. Tsukamoto didn’t do too bad either, but when he asked how come Mizuki is so energetic, their captain’s explanation was beyond human understanding.

They have been ten minutes into warming-up when Ooshiba appeared with a serious sleepyhead. That was usual. The out of daily life occurrence happened when Kimishita locked gaze with the giant, and the redhead theatrically turned his head away with an incredible sulk.

Small nerves immediately popped all around Kimishita’s head. At the least one of them was mature enough to concentrate on practice and not to kick the grass repeatedly instead of the ball. Side note: that someone wasn’t Ooshiba Kiichi.

The redhead’s attitude only lasted until lunch break when Ooshiba entered Kimishita’s classroom. The midfielder was about to leave for the cafeteria, but standing up from his desk has been abruptly stopped as a history notebook (that did not belong to him) was dropped on his belongings. Kimishita frowned at the clumsy handwriting. A few seconds of silence followed before Kimishita pocketed his wallet with a sigh.

“Stop ignoring me, asshole!” Oh, the nerve!

“Come again?” Kimishita fixed the taller boy with a glare.

“Stop ignoring me, asshole.” Ooshiba repeated. “Are you deaf now or just simply too stupid to follow an order?”

Kimishita is so going to kill him one day, _one day_.

“Listen yo–” as he was about to snap back, the two bags of melon bread and one yakisoba bread placed on his desk held his tongue back, twisting it into a click. Ooshiba seemed restless, his fingers dancing with Kimishita’s eraser.

Okay.

This was new.

The midfielder bended down to pull out his history notes before taking his glasses off for the time being. With his free hand, he grabbed the food and finally climbed to his feet. The redhead was fucking lucky because Kimishita understood his silence even.

“Let’s go to the clubroom, it’s more quiet there.”

 

-

 

Just as Kimishita guessed, the clubroom pang from emptiness. He walked up to a bench and straddled it so he could put the notebooks and the food comfortably on it. Ooshiba followed in suit, wordlessly. The taller teen sat with his back against the lockers, providing an enormous gap between his torso and the wood. Kimishita lifted a brow before putting his glasses on; he could so easily kick the bench out of Ooshiba and then he would fall.

Despite of the entertaining thought, the midfielder did not act upon his desire to make the idiot suffer. The last thing he needed is to make the redhead more stupid with a head injury.

“From when?” Kimishita shattered the silence, and Ooshiba’s train of thoughts as the latter seemed a bit shaken by the sudden inquiry. _What the hell is he daydreaming for? Idiot._

“1572,” _the Azuchi-Momoyama period, huh._ Their gaze locked. Kimishita grunted as he turned the pages backwards. Since Ooshiba was sort of decent in math, Kimishita wasn’t surprised by receiving a number instead of naming the actual happening. Without uttering another word he began to prepare a sum-up note for idiots. Mostly using his own as a source, since Ooshiba’s handwriting was worse than a hieroglyph. Kimishita had scolded his teammate due to the terrific scrawl that Ooshiba dared to call writing. The only reason he is not repeating the lecture is because he noticed Ooshiba was actually _trying_ to write nicer now. Not that Kimishita was satisfied with it still, but he did appreciate the intention.

His ears trembled at the sound of paper creases when Ooshiba opened one of his breads and started to eat.

Again. Why was Kimishita doing this?

It’s safe to claim that this was not his decision. A few weeks ago the coach asked him to choose who he wants to tutor, Mizuki or Ooshiba. Almost like asking if he wanted the bullet in his left or right temple. Damn.

Kimishita’s reasoning was rational: Mizuki was his upperclassman, so tutoring would have been inconvenient, plus, there was no way (with all sportsman respect toward his captain) he could have stand the stupidity of the older. Not that Ooshiba was any better. Not at all. But at least Kimishita knew how to handle him; they learnt the same things and he had known the taller for a longer time. He still wasn’t too thrilled with the task, but oh well. It was for the team, or something stupidly cheesy like that.

“When do you have the test?” Kimishita didn’t look up.

“The day after tomorrow,” and Ooshiba didn’t look at him. The taller stretched his legs to laze around, speaking with the bite in his mouth that rubbed Kimishita all the wrong ways. So. Fucking. Annoying.

_Mind your manners, damn it!_

Despite his untamed thoughts and a few veins popping on his face, Kimishita let the gesture slip.

The following good five minutes was spent in silence, until Ooshiba surprisingly broke it.

“If I fail, I’ll have to attend a tutor session after school.” That was bad. It intervened with club activities. Kimishita understood that much. If anything, he could appreciate the effort of Ooshiba not being selfish for once.

“You won’t fail. Are you looking down on me, moron?” Not that he would admit it out loud, ever.

Ooshiba finally angled his head toward the midfielder who was still concentrating on the note preparation. “If I do, it’s going to be _your_ fault, bastard!”

For the sake of–!! If only Ooshiba could go without blaming his flaws on others. “I’m telling you, you won’t, dumbass!” With that Kimishita lifted his head to meet Ooshiba’s glare, additionally kicking his outstretched leg to make a point.

He seriously didn’t want to tutor this dimwit in his free time after school, but maybe he should go for it just this once. Kimishita could look after Ooshiba while watching the store. “Tch,” it was such a pain in the ass. Kimishita was the first to break their linked gaze, eyes landing on the organized notes he was preparing. He paused the writing as he opened the bag of his melon bread. “Well, there is even after club practi–”

“I’m busy,” Ooshiba interrupted the offer, only magnetizing a questioning glare upon himself. But the redhead wasn’t watching Kimishita anymore, he averted his gaze already.

“You are _what_?”

“Busy.”

“Tch, just that we are clear, I’m not enjo–”

“Sorry.”

The apologetic tone halted Kimishita. It was rare for Ooshiba to apologize, but it did happen from time to time.

Number Ten clicked his tongue anew, prioritizing his task. “Suit yourself,” he still mumbled.

Kimishita isn’t Ooshiba’s babysitter after all. If he had something better to do, go ahead! Who gives a fuck anyway?

 

“Does kissing gets better with practice too?” Kimishita was cursing the taller in his mind, but the out of nowhere question still made him gape. Ooshiba on the other hand, had a peaceful expression. As if he just asked what the weather is going to be tomorrow.

Another kick hit the redhead, hard. Ooshiba reacted on impulse and so did Kimishita, taking a hold on each other’s collar with an angry expression.

“What the hell was that for, bastard?!”

“Stop fooling around, idiot!”

“I’m not fooling around!!”

“Then what?!”

“What is what?!”

“You tell me, Kiichi!”

Ooshiba snapped his hand away at that, clicking his tongue and bended down to pick up the food from the floor that fell in the heat of their moment.

“I was just wondering is all…”

“Haa?” Kimishita was still pissed.

“They say everything gets better with practice…. You say that too.”

“Because it’s a fact, dumbass!”

“Same for kissing?”

Kimishita groaned, shrugged his shoulders and returned to the notes. He didn’t need to be a genius to know that Ooshiba is not going to be satisfied with that answer.

“Get a girlfriend.”

“I want one.”

“Then go ahead and smooch her.”

“No, no, no! You don’t get it, huh? I already want to be good at it by the time I get one.” Ooshiba paused. “Although, I must be naturally talented at kissing too….”

Kimishita felt like facepalming, again. A migraine was definitely coming, he could smell it. Tutoring this moron in his free time was the worst thing that could happen to him. Ever.

“Don’t you wanna practice too?”

“What?”

“Kissing.”

“….”

“Together.”

Fuck karma, claiming tutoring to be the worst wasn’t a challenge!

“Don’t ignore me!!” Ooshiba cried.

“I’m trying not to pay attention so I won’t catch your stupidity.”

“How is it stupid? It’s practice. You always wanted me to be hardworking….”

“All I want you to be is QUIET!”

Ooshiba huffed, angrily biting his bread.

Kimishita wasn’t naïve enough to believe the topic got dropped, he knew that moron too well.

“Kiss me.” There it was.

“No.”

“Kiss me!!”

“No!”

“KISS ME!!!!!!” The redheads stomped his feet on the floor like a six year old having a hysteric tantrum.

“Practice with someone else.”

“With who?”

“FIGURE THAT OUT YOURSELF!” He kicked Ooshiba again, the violent gesture only deepening the redhead’s sulk. Kimishita clicked his tongue. “I don’t want a girlfriend.”

“That’s fine. All you need is _me_.”

That sounded so _wrong_ , yet an uncomfortable and disturbing blush still crept over Kimishita’s cheeks.

Okay, Kimishita needed to face the problem head on. Explaining why it’s a bad idea was out of question, as Ooshiba would probably not care anyway. If he gives in, he can get out of this mess sooner. Otherwise he would need to deal with a sulking Ooshiba in addition to tutoring and that was a horrible formula.

“Do it with someone else,” his last attempt to get away with it. Ooshiba gave him a look. “With a _girl_ , for the sake of–”

“That would count as cheating on my future girlfriend.” Ooshiba sounded so confident that Kimishita almost believed he is making sense.

“What about me?”

“You don’t count,” despite of hating this conversation from its roots, that bit still stings.

The redhead pushed more, “if it’d be the Captain you would agr–”

“FINE!” Kimishita cut off the idea. How can this moron make that up? “Tch, fine.” He whispered, putting his pen down and taking the glasses off. “C’mere.”

“NO, _YOU_ COME HERE!!” With that Ooshiba grabbed the midfielder’s collar, a familiar situation so far. However, Kimishita didn’t take well the pulling and possibly clashing teeth, which got avoided splendidly thanks to–

“Ah, look, Tsukushi! Kimishita-kun and Kiichiman are already here. Fighting as usual.”

Kazama.

 

 _A relief_.

 

“Good afternoon– hiii!!!” Tsukamoto squeaked at the abrupt sound of Ooshiba climbing to his feet with an angry, gorilla alike groan. “O– Ooshiba-senpAIII–” The redhead hit the younger’s head with his own, causing a laughing fit from Kazama.  
  
Ooshiba, on the other hand, was fuming. Clearly irked by the unwanted guests.

“Kurusu and the others are coming too, I was asked to tutor them.” Kazama informed the midfielder, who remained surprisingly quiet. Face red.

 

_He almost kissed Kiichi._

What the hell were they thinking?!

 

“Tch, a pain in the ass,” he managed to grunt still.

 

He spared a look at Ooshiba’s direction.

 

_Act normal._

The taller had an outrageous sulk–

 

_Nothing happened._

and pained eyes.

 

 

_Nothing will._

 

 

 


	2. "The best part...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a slow updater, I apologize.  
> 

...is falling."

 

 

 

It was dark. The dim light illuminated the overshadowed space. Not that the weak ray mattered at all as Kimishita’s eyes were shut. Chest warm, stomach funny. A breeze goose bumped his skin, commanding every single hair to salute, except the infinitesimal fact of having no airflow inside.

_Inside._

Where were they again?

It didn’t matter.

Nothing did.

As the foreign tongue asked his own into a slow motioned waltz, boiling his rushing blood to heat his system up in a way Kimishita was so unfamiliar with. Plus, Kimishita didn’t know how to dance either. He must seem clumsy, but can follow the lead– somewhat.

A voice.

His own.

An audible groan as teeth grazed across his upper lip; how embarrassing.

So flustering, yet right.

The body flushed against his was a perfect fit, the hands on his back steady. Hot. When he cracked an eye open a curious pair of hues gazed into Kimishita’s own. Small sounds, chewing noises– kisses.

The other smirked, his red hair a mess.

“Kiichi….”

That’s right, he was kissing…

“KIICHI!!!”

 

Kimishita Atsushi has never fallen out of his own fucking bed after stirring at three damned a.m. from a stupid dream– a _nightmare_ , to be exact!

Needless to say, going back to sleep had zero possibility as every time his eyelashes shut close, a familiar sensation washed over him. Therefore, sunrise was much welcome, doesn’t matter how early it rose.

Kimishita had no sleep at all, a cranky day was awaiting him and the fact tutoring time with a certain giant was booked didn’t make the bags lighter under his eyes.

He had breakfast, rice and miso soup, with his father. Keeping it simple was nice and the morning chat eased his mind for the time being. The blessing however wasn’t endless as Ooshiba was already in the clubroom when Kimishita arrived. The state of the redhead’s facial expression hinted that he had been running for a while now.

Not that Kimishita cared– not at all.

About those dusted cheeks.

Sweating bangs.

Dry lips.

The hell with them!

The heavily slammed door - due to his thoughts - scared the heck out of Kurusu and Nitobe who were unfortunate enough to walk past Number Ten at the worst possible timing.

Despite of Kimishita’s personal drama that only got the green light to stage inside his brain, the training remained decent. Normal. Usual arguments were granted, but those were part of his every day life. Without those, things would seem suspicious. But in reality nothing was more than strictly _ordinary_.

Simultaneously reassuring and alarming.

Dreams were nothing more than a trick played by the human mind. Kimishita knew that much. His nightmare was due to a natural progress, as the brain replayed and summed up the daily event and– rewrote it in a tricky way. Kimishita shoudn’t feel troubled by something he is unable to control. The more often you tell yourself not to think of an elephant, will make you actually think of the fucking elephant.

 

-

 

Lunch break arrived sooner than later. So Kimishita just laid back against his chair and waited. Ooshiba always came around when they needed to study. That was their unsaid promise. However today, regardless how long the middle fielder dawdled, the enormous baby didn’t knock his head against the doorway.

“Tch,” he had enough of being idle. Kimishita had decided to go to Ooshiba’s classroom and make sure to kill him this time. How dare that bastard make him wait when he was the one doing a favour? After grabbing his notebooks, Kimishita angrily stormed through the corridor only to catch a glimpse of the object of his murdering desire. The redhead was lazily leaning against the wall, talking to a– _girl_.

The furious teen stopped dead in his track, stunned. His shock was more evident than his anger as it took his forehead a good thirty seconds to display all the nerves running under his skin.

_Kiichi ditched you for a chick._

That idiot just threw away studying, the chance to avoid extra lessons during club activity to fool around. Was he that badly desperate to get kissed? Serves him well, because Kimishita gave no fuck if Number Eleven gets benched.

BAMM!!!

The abrupt sound resonated through the floor as Kimishita’s notebooks fell on the ground after smashing them against the wall close to Ooshiba’s head.

Chances, Kimishita’s actions were faster than his thoughts. Damn.

“Hey, Kiichi,” he started as the girl stepped backwards in fear. Ooshiba seemed surprised for a curt second only, nonchalance ran to his face the moment he angled his head toward Kimishita’s venom filled voice. “Fancy ditching your responsibilities, asshat?” _Ditching me._

Ooshiba seemed confused, and just generally slow for some reason. As if he sincerely had no idea where that accusation even came from. “I wasn’t ditching you.”

Fuck. “Not me, _responsibilities_. Are you deaf now or stupidity infecte–,” he paused however when he spotted the melon bread bags in Ooshiba’s hand. “…” Kimishita might have jumped into conclusions just a breath too soon than necessary. What the hell was wrong with him?

“I was on my way.”

“S– sorry to hold you back, Ooshiba-kun.” The girl bowed in an apologetic tone, apparently flustered as she avoided looking at Kimishita. “I’ll see you later.” She bowed to the midfielder as well before walking off.

Kimishita mumbled something unintelligible along with ‘Ooshiba-kun’ and ‘later’ as anger boils in his gut anew.

“What was that?”

“I told you to stop fooling around! You either take this–” _me_ , “–seriously, or you better be off with your girlfriend. I’ve no time for–”

“She is not my girlfriend.”

“That’s not the point!”

That answer earns a crooked smirk, in a knowing-it-all manner that itched Kimishita under his skin every time. “It seems to be.”

Kimishita reacts the most natural way as he would when the redhead pushes his buttons, grabs Number Eleven’s shirt before lifting his other arm to punch his lights out. The only miscalculation lays in Ooshiba’s part, as the taller grabs his wrist and twists it together with Kimishita’s whole body, and slams him against the wall. The brunet curses while green orbs paralyze him under a threatening glare.

Lips fall apart as Kiichi’s warm breath spreads on his cheeks.

Inhaling.

Deep.

“It seems to be,” Ooshiba repeats calmly, fixated on his opponent. Kimishita’s grip eventually loosens, going limb in his brain dead state. Damn.

Damn. Damn. Damn!

Kiichi has been acting _normal_. The one who kept behaving in an uncharacteristic way was Kimishita due to allowing his stupid drea– _nightmare_ to stress him out over something that…

_You don’t count._

… wasn’t even real.

“Let me go you behemoth,” at least this was a good wake up call.

Ooshiba’s expression sunk into a sulk, lips pursed. “I don’t wanna,” childish protest, as always.

“Tch, I didn’t ask what you wan–”

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

 

The golden brown wax was still simmering, as the restless time stole the illusion of stillness.

A sweet, alluring aroma painted the noisy corridor mousy.

A surrealistic whisper lying colors.

Bubbling naivety.

Asymmetric smile.

Soon stretched out.

 _He is playing you_.

To pull off.

An elbow edged between their chests as Kimishita roughly broke free from his human cage.

“Your jokes disgust me,” _you are taking this too far, Kiichi_.

Kimishita bended down to collect his notes from the floor, before the taller could cook a proper response he decided to speak up for their behalf’s. “We’re studying in the cafeteria today.”

And their hell has begun in the catering place only to degenerate to a point where both of them got banned from the public location. The news has reached the soccer team too, so the chitchatting topic was provided before practice.

“So how was it again, Kiichiman? Nobunaga had a twin?” Kazama that bastard just didn’t know when to stop.

“K–Kazama-kun I don’t think…”

“Huhu, Kazama, you are stupid, aren’t you? Not a twin! They just looked alike.” Ooshiba’s confidence only peppered Kimishita’s forehead with nerve marks.

“Haha, sorry, sorry.” Kazama wasn’t even close to being apologetic. “And so Nobunaga time travelled?”

“No, his real name is Saburo. He lives in our time, but for some reason he travelled to the past and exchanged places with Nobunaga, who ran away. That wimp bastard.” From this point, it’s easily escalated from Tsukamoto confessing how much his mother loved this TV show to Haibara screaming not to spoil the plot. Meanwhile Usui stepped next to Kimishita with an expression that rather stood for amusement than concern.

“Is this series historically correct at the least?”

Kimishita shrugged with a click of his tongue. “More or less. But it has ridiculous elements, it is a fiction for a reason.” To think that Ooshiba would marathon a television drama instead of memorizing the note Kimishita prepared… certainly blew the midfielder’s mind. He got angry for a reason, they started a punch throwing fight and then got kicked out of the cafeteria. “He is going to fail the test if he writes fantasy. That idiot….”

“Ooshiba is going to pass,” that was Mizuki’s confidence speaking on Kimishita’s left. The midfielder steamed irritation.

“Weren’t you paying attention what I just sa–”

“You won’t let him, right?” To fail, that is. Mizuki side glanced sternly at the shocked second year. Every one of them just needed to stress him out.

Usui placed a hand in comfort on Kimishita’s shoulder. “That’s what he said.”

“Tch, I’m not a wizard.”

“And make the ball go whoosh wobbly do today.”

“I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU ARE SAYING!!” Despite the attention he was giving to his conversation partner, Kimishita couldn’t help but notice a pair of burning eyes on himself.

“Ooshiba-senpai, ball!” And Kurusu managed to hit Number Eleven’s face with the ball. Kazama bended over with hands around his stomach, laughing hard. Tsukamoto worrying and Kurusu fearing for his life.

Ooshiba immediately grabbed Kurusu’s shirt and pulled him upwards. “What was that, hah? Wanna die?”

“I warned senpa–”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry….”

Kazama’s laughter got loud enough to oppress Kurusu’s pleading. Kimishita rolled his eyes and kicked the ball (that rolled to his feet) at Ooshiba’s back. “Don’t aim at his head, isn’t he already stupid? What will we do if you damage him any longer.”

That was enough for Ooshiba to dismiss Kurusu and to put his preference elsewhere. Apparently, into Kimishita’s face, as he grabbed Number Ten’s shirt to yank the smaller. Kimishita reacted quickly and returned the gesture, it was natural for them to bark like this.

“Are you picking a fight, Bakimishita!”

“That insult doesn’t even fit my name, idiot!”

Ooshiba hesitated for a blink. “I’ll be the one that decides what fits you and what not. I! The great me standing right here!”

“Who allowed you to be in charge, stupid!”

“I’m a hero, it should be natural, stuuuupid!!!”

And this was the moment when Ubukata appeared, yelling at the rest of the team who lingered in the clubroom instead of being on the field. However, only Kurusu, Kazama and Ooshiba got smacked.

 

-

 

They all felt exhausted after practice to carry on what has been said before. Not that it was any more peaceful on the field. Luckily, Kimishita teamed up with Mizuki for today, so he was able to avoid that oaf for the most part. He heard Kurusu inviting the first years for ramen, it was a nice habit, he noted wordlessly. Kimishita had no time to play around as he needed to come up with a plan that will get Ooshiba’s mind out of the gutter and actually memorize the fact about Nobunaga’s period. At the least, the event and characters were the same in the TV show. It’s not like it was a bad story, actually really well made and more accurate than not. There have also been speculations of two Nobunagas as well, due to the differences in his personality. But nothing has been proven and as far as school and history teachers were concerned, what mattered is the book. Not a time travelling fiction. Kimishita stirred from his train of thoughts when he heard Tsukamoto bidding goodnight to Ooshiba.

“Hey!” It was for the sake of not fucking failing.

“Ha?” Ooshiba stopped in his tracks, giving a look.

The test is tomorrow. “Tch, I have time to tutor–”

“I’m busy.”

_Sorry to hold you back, Ooshiba-kun. I’ll see you later._

With that the redhead existed the building.

 _Kiichi is ditching you_.

Leaving a speechless–

_Again._

–and mad Kimishita behind.

 

Or that’s what he thought at the spur of moment. That Kiichi was ditching him. But to chase away any false alarm that lead up to the misunderstanding, Kimishita has witnessed something on his way home.

It wasn’t completely dark yet, the sky danced in orange. He took a shorter route home because this time, he didn’t need to do grocery shopping. That’s when it happened! He passed a playground he knew well. Kimishita used to come here when he was a kid to play with others. So when he heard the noises of elementary and middle school students running around, he wasn’t the least surprised. Shock came when a familiar voice started to yell at ten years olds and lecture them how much they _suck_.

Kimishita immediately ninja-ed his way behind a bush, watching the unusual sight of Kiichi kicking the ball with children.

_What was that idiot doing? Busy, my ass._

Idiot.

Idiot.

Idiot.

Yet, he was unable to resist a looped curl of lips.

Number Eleven has been changing indeed. Kimishita already knew about the extra run practice, and about his ambitions. Just recalling all the stupidity that came out of Ooshiba’s mouth and all the idiocy he’s been carrying along lately were enough to– _Stop thinking!._

Hah, maybe he could try to make those notes simpler and email them over tonight. He had time to work on it while warming that seat behind the store’s counter after all.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The TV drama they are talking about is Nobunaga concerto, if anyone is interested (much recommended).
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


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